


americano

by boycoffin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kissing, M/M, Mindfuck, Mutual deception, Not Cheating, Pining, Podfic & Podficced Works, Pseudonyms, Season/Series 03, but it's, dominant will, they definitely do offscreen fuck on will's boat though, will does not speak italian and neither do i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boycoffin/pseuds/boycoffin
Summary: They have a past, but their false identities have never met. Context is key.(@HannibalAusasked for a fic set in florence during the first half of season 3, where will keeps bumping into hannibal but pretends he doesn'tknowhannibal, and acts as if dr fell is someone else entirely. since i have a theme of ongoing mutual deception/denial in one of my big projects at the moment, this seemed like a fun little exercise to play with that idea in a different setting!)





	americano

**Author's Note:**

> here's the audio!
> 
> [gdrive](https://drive.google.com/file/d/16ai2IQ0t7cInygA3gEVgAe2YCwmomFYb/view?usp=sharing)   
>  [filehosting](https://www.filehosting.org/file/details/779361/americano.mp3)

'Signore? Scusami, signore—'

The stranger touched Hannibal's sleeve, and he turned to see that it wasn't a stranger at all. Will Graham, looking sun-bronzed and ravishing and deliciously alive, had stopped him in the street.

His hair was pushed back off his forehead in a single wave, and he once again wore glasses. And though he didn't avoid Hannibal's eyes as he once had behind those frames, he didn't fully meet his gaze, either. Friendly, but guarded. _Unfamiliar_. The absence of their former intimacy felt like a blow to the chest.

'Um, vuoi…' Will's accent left much to be desired, and he spoke haltingly, with the good-natured delivery of a tourist trying his best, 'rubare la mia foto?'

_'Fare_ ,' said Hannibal. 'Rubare is to steal.'

Will flashed a brief smile of relief. 'Oh, thank god, I've been stumbling around in my phrasebook all day. So is that a yes, or just a dire need to correct the idiot?'

'Get into position, then.' Hannibal took the phone Will proffered him, and watched as Will leaned against the corner of the archway nearest them. Hands in his pockets, ankles lightly crossed, head turned to look down the length of the piazza. Radiant in the golden hour. A breeze off the water tugged at his curls and the hem of his jacket.

Hannibal felt uncharacteristically lost.

'You got it?' said Will.

'A moment,' said Hannibal. 'Remain just as you are.' And he snapped the photo.

When he retrieved his phone, Will said, 'Thanks, I owe you one.' He checked how the picture turned out. 'Huh. You've got a good eye.'

'Simply a pleasant subject,' said Hannibal.

It was so good to see him, so divinely fulfilling just to hear his voice, that the strange angle of the circumstances could be overlooked. There would be any number of reasons, plans, traps. They hardly mattered. Hannibal had always enjoyed watching Will work his spell.

'Are you in Florence long?' he said.

Will shrugged, squinting in a slant of light. 'Not sure. I'm looking for a friend who disappeared, since the cops don't seem capable of doing anything about it.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' said Hannibal. 'I wish you the best of luck, Mr…?'

'Dante Fisher,' said Will, extending his hand.

Hannibal took it, and they shook once. 'Roman Fell. Perhaps we'll run into one another again.'

'Oh,' said Will with a smile, 'I doubt it.'

* * *

They ran into each other again.

'Mr Fisher,' said Hannibal, setting down his cup of espresso at the standing counter. 'A pleasure to see you. Any news of your friend?'

Will took a drink of his own coffee before he replied. 'Seems like he just dissolved into the shadows, you know? I'm going to ask around, see if anyone's met him.'

They both glanced out of the front window of the bar, at the pummeling rain.

'Nice day for it,' said Hannibal.

'Yeah, I might not have planned this very well.' Will looked down at his hands, smiling a little at himself. 'That's what I do, though.'

'Fail to plan for the weather?'

'Follow him wherever he goes,' said Will. 'Hell or high water—usually the former.' He leaned against the counter. 'I'm terrible at small talk, can you tell?'

'I prefer big talk,' Hannibal assured him.

'Even so, I ought to learn sometime, especially if I intend to canvass the neighborhood. What do you do, Mr Fell?'

'Doctor Fell,' Hannibal corrected him.

'Medical or academic?'

'Usually the latter. Why did your friend come to Florence, Mr Fisher?'

Will shrugged. 'For his health, I'd wager.'

'Was he ill?'

'I think he had a kind of emotional breakdown, started acting self-destructively.' Will turned his coffee cup to and fro in his hands. 'I feel partially responsible. I want to make it right.'

'One's actions are nearly always a choice,' said Hannibal. 'Unless he were unaware of what he was doing, the fault is likely his.'

'You're not good at small talk, yourself.' Will smiled. 'Maybe that's why I picked you.'

Hannibal gave him a long look. 'Picked me for what?'

'To take my picture,' said Will.

'You can't have known before we spoke.'

'I get a sense for people.' Will drank the last of his coffee, turned the cup upside-down on its saucer and slid it to the back edge of the counter for the barista to collect. 'You seemed like a man with steady hands. Though, no offense, you left your fingerprints all over my phone.' He retrieved his umbrella from where it had leaned under the counter. 'Keep your head down out there, Dr Fell. The storm can only get worse.'

'It was nice to speak with you,' said Hannibal, as Will turned to go. 'I look forward to seeing you again.'

Will smirked for a second, and then it was gone. 'You won't.'

* * *

Hannibal saw him again the following week, in the audience of a lecture.

Afterward, as people milled around and came up to shake Hannibal's hand, he watched Will strolling the margins of the crowd until he had the chance to approach him.

'Did you enjoy the talk, Mr Fisher?' Soon, they would be the only ones left in the hall.

'You know, I'd never read the _Comedy_ until I made the trip here,' said Will. 'Picked up a copy in a used bookstore before I made the crossing. Figured it would give me something to do.'

'You came by sea?'

'I'm not a fan of airport security.' Will sat down in one of the chairs, and Hannibal sat across the aisle from him. 'Anyway, yeah. I think I'd read a couple of sonnets—you know, _Upon a day, came Sorrow into me—_ but I'd never found the time to crack open the heavier stuff.'

They were mirroring each other's posture, legs crossed over the same direction, fingers interlaced. 'Were you able to follow the lecture, being so new to the source material?'

'I always find a way to catch up.' Will inclined his head a little, and gestured to Hannibal's left hand. 'You married?'

'Yes,' said Hannibal.

'How long?'

'Twenty-two years.'

Will breathed out a short sigh, and it echoed in the now-empty room. 'I'm impressed. Subtract twenty and that's about how long any of my relationships have lasted.'

Hannibal found himself repositioning, covering the wedding ring that still felt foreign on his hand. 'Does that trouble you?'

'Sometimes,' said Will. 'One in particular.'

'Your missing friend?'

Will didn't answer. 'I don't think I could ever get married.'

'Why not?'

'I'm not good with people.'

Hannibal let that remark fade from the air before he replied. 'I find your company agreeable enough.'

'Well,' Will corrected himself, 'that was sort of a lie. I'm good with _dead_ people. Maybe you're dead, Dr Fell.'

'Perhaps I am. The idea doesn't seem to trouble you.'

Will skirted the subject. 'Hell of a name, though. What were your parents thinking?'

'I couldn't say.'

'Could be worse,' said Will, getting to his feet. 'Could've named you _Hannibal_. What a life.'

He almost laughed. 'I can't imagine.'

'I did enjoy the lecture, by the way,' said Will, as he walked away up the aisle to the open doors.

Hannibal wanted to follow, but resisted. 'Will I see you again?'

The answer could barely be heard over the tap of his retreating footsteps:

'No.'

* * *

But there he was, by the fountain. Hannibal sat beside him.

'Would you join me for lunch, Mr Fisher?' said Hannibal.

'I don't eat,' said Will. 'I'm a plant.'

'Even plants require nourishment.' Their sleeves brushed.

'True,' said Will. 'Not from you, though. I've got my water and light all squared away, thanks.'

'You chose a good place for it,' said Hannibal.

'I was in the dark for a long time. It seemed like it'd be a nice change.' Will stretched where he sat, and as he relaxed again, he leaned against Hannibal's shoulder, as comfortably as if he'd done so many times before. 'How's academia?'

'As cutthroat as it ever was,' said Hannibal. 'Where are you staying?'

'I have a place,' said Will. 'It floats. I'd invite you over for drinks sometime, but it's a little small. We'd be in each other's laps all night.'

'I wouldn't mind.'

'Bet your wife would mind.'

'Still no word of your friend, then? You must miss him terribly.'

Will's hand was on Hannibal's thigh, loosely open as if welcoming him to take it, but he withdrew it when Hannibal had barely moved to try. 'I like missing him,' said Will. 'Gives me time to rehearse everything I want to say when we see each other again.'

'What's the first thing you would have him know?' said Hannibal.

'It's hard to decide. I seem to skip over that part, pretend it worked out fine and that I said all the right things. Mostly I think about what comes after that.'

They sat in silence for a while, watching the play of light on the water, listening to the jubilant sound of the fountain. Then Will said, softly, his head still on Hannibal's shoulder,

'I think I'd cry. Floodgates-opening kind of thing. But maybe I did enough of that on the way over, you know? In the middle of the ocean, there's nobody around to make you feel ashamed but yourself.'

'Did you friend ever make you feel ashamed?'

Will's hand was back where it had been before, but Hannibal knew now not to reach for it. 'No,' said Will. 'Not once. I could say anything I wanted, do whatever felt right.'

Hannibal closed his eyes for a long moment. 'I hope you find him again.'

'Sometimes,' Well went on, still in that soft voice but with a slight shift in tone, 'I think I'll pin him to the wall by his throat, and kiss him for every time I've thought about it since the day we met. Until he's gasping, until his mouth becomes a bruise.'

Hannibal's chest ached. 'And other times?'

Will straightened up beside him. 'Other times I just want to crush his windpipe under my hands and watch his eyes go dull in their sockets.' He stood up. 'Enjoy your afternoon, Dr Fell.'

'If you ever invited me,' said Hannibal, to Will's retreating back, 'I would accept.'

'That's nice,' said Will, glancing over his shoulder. 'I won't.'

* * *

But he did.

'Yet another reason to travel by boat,' said Will as he poured Hannibal a glass of scotch. 'You can bring all your booze with you. How's Lydia?'

'She remains, unfailingly, herself,' said Hannibal.

Will chuckled. 'Twenty-two years. Never run around on her, have you?'

'Never—though, of course, the thought has occurred to me now and then.'

'Some people think that the urge to betray one's beloved is built in,' said Will, taking a sip of his drink. 'We're not wolves, or vultures. Humans aren't designed to mate for life.'

'One can be faithful without being monogamous,' said Hannibal. 'And I've witnessed many faithless marriages, where neither party strayed.'

Will looked up at the stars. It was cold here on the water, but they sat side by side on the deck in their overcoats, a thick blanket over their laps. 'Have you ever stabbed someone in the back?'

'A coward's blow,' said Hannibal.

'That's not an answer.'

'When I betray someone, I do so face-to-face.' Their breaths steamed and mingled against the black backdrop of sea and sky. 'What about you? Is Dante Fisher a coward?'

'If he was, you'd be the first to know.' Will set down his glass. 'I think my friend might show up at your exhibit.'

'How will I know it's him?'

'Well,' said Will, turning from the stars to look at Hannibal again. 'He's about your height and build, ostentatious dresser, always the smartest guy in the room and secretly eager to prove it. Predatory, if you're looking at him right.'

'Your friend doesn't sound like a very nice man,' Hannibal observed, and had been about to say more—

Will took the glass from his hand and set it aside, straddling him in an easy, practiced manner, one gloved hand at Hannibal's throat, not applying any real force, not _yet_. 'I don't like nice men. Will you give him something for me?'

Hannibal swallowed, enjoying the pressure as his Adam's apple scrolled up and down beneath Will's grip. 'Yes,' he said, looking up at Will in the moonlight, the black of his eyes.

Will kissed him, and it started fierce, anger and spite and the sting of teeth against his lips, but that anger faded to sweetness, to contentment, to the taut length of yearning that had uncoiled between them for far too long, or perhaps just long enough. He didn't move his hand away; if anything, as the kiss grew gentler, his grip tightened. Just a little.

Hannibal allowed it, welcomed it, his head tipped back. One hand was at Will's hip, and the other—Hannibal moved it between them, between the parted wings of Will's coat, and placed his palm to Will's abdomen. The last place they had touched with such intimacy.

Will broke the kiss as his breath stuttered in his throat, and Hannibal watched his expression in the silvery night, the flutter of his closed eyes. Such a gentle sound, a shadow of the cry Hannibal had wrung from him before. But this wasn't pain.

'I don't know if I can relay your message,' said Hannibal, his voice a little rasped at the edges.

'Don't worry,' said Will, 'my friend's not big on small talk either.'

'All the same, I would hate to disappoint you.'

'You seem competent enough to do what I want, I think you'll manage. Should I repeat it so you don't forget?'

Hannibal pressed against Will gently with the flat of his hand, relishing the sweet little gasp that Will gave him in return. 'I think that might be wise.'

* * *

Dawn blushed the harbor, and had begun to reach its fingers across the city.

'You should go,' Will murmured. They had slept in the berth together, and it had been warmer and felt more like home than at any other time. 'Your wife must be worried.'

Hannibal's lips lingered against Will's neck before he replied. 'She worries only about herself.'

'I'd hate to be seen as a homewrecker,' said Will, sitting up and leaning out of the way so Hannibal could stand. 'I've already undermined your ethical position.'

Hannibal began to get dressed, which was entertaining to watch in such a confined space. 'How so?'

'Weren't you the one who espoused face-to-face betrayal?' Will wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and laid back down, propping his chin in his hand. 'Seems to me that I've rendered you a cheater, Doctor.'

'It isn't cheating if I made the rules.'

Will watched him tying his tie. 'I've heard of couples who have a list—you know, permitted exceptions to fidelity, if the opportunity ever arose. I doubt that some random American you met in the street counts as an allowable breach of your vows.'

'The only promise I ever made was to protect her from herself.' Hannibal smiled. 'Not to protect her from me.'

When he was fully dressed, Will dragged him down just to spite him, just to see what he would do, and kissed him with such bare and earnest desire that it left them both breathless. But even slightly rumpled, Hannibal needed to be on his way.

'When can I see you again?'

'If my friend doesn't show his face,' said Will, 'you can bring the message back to me.'

'Very well,' said Hannibal, before he turned away. 'I won't.'


End file.
